


Memento Mori

by NozomiMatsuura (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Brainwashing, Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra!Peter, Kidnapping (Mentioned), Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NozomiMatsuura
Summary: Maybe Peter's still just a stupid, little boy. Too weak to understand what might come.That's what they say. The people around him, in their black clothes with their masked faces and deep voices echoing in his tiny room.He can't remember how this all happened.But it's just how it is nowadays.[Hydra!Peter Fic]





	Memento Mori

"паук." A loud, gravelly voice interrupts Peter's thoughts.

They call him паук - Spider - because he's small and flexible, and they also did some weird radiation mutation thing to him and now he sticks to walls. He can't really remember how it happened, exactly. He can't remember a lot, actually. He's been here his whole life, he thinks. Learning and waiting for his next mission. He's been taught six languages so far and has also been taught many ways to kill a man with just his bare hands and a little bit of luck. Some of them call him 'Peter' and he isn't sure if its a nickname or his birth name, but he uses it on himself either way.

"паук!" The man repeats himself, banging on Peter's door with the back of his gun. Peter represses the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm coming," Peter replies, gathering himself off the floor of his  ~~cell~~ bedroom. He grabs his uniform and puts it on. It's a simple thin, black turtleneck with a pair of black combat pants with - you guessed it, - black combat boots that are just a little bit too big but Peter wouldn't dare complain about it. He learned to just accept things as they were a long time ago.

He opens the door with the tiny implant they'd injected into his thumb when he first arrived at the base - when was that again? Doesn't matter. 

Peter can see the guard eying him up as he leaves the room and he almost smirks. He walks down the halls, head down and submissive. His routine has been the same every day for almost ten years and he knows that today he has a mission. Although he's not sure what it's going to be, he damn well knows it's going to be the same as all the others. Get in, kill the target, wipe the evidence and get out. It's routine.

He uses the back of his forearm to push open the cold steel door of the briefing room he's grown to be all too familiar with.

"Ah, паук. Доброе утро. You have a new mission today. Go gear up, the details will be explained on the quinjet. Удачи." His handler, a man with bright green eyes and greying hair, tells him as he enters. Peter furrows his eyebrows. Why can't he explain it now? Peter promptly walks out of the room with a nod and heads back down the luminescent hallway to the armoury. 

He slips on his mask, a dark grey piece of Vibranium that fits snugly over his mouth and nose, leaving only his deep brown eyes exposed. He takes the bulletproof vest - made especially for him - that an armoury worker silently holds out for him, and pulls it on. Peter picks up his web-shooters and they're on his wrist with just a simple flick of his hand. Once again, he leaves the room through the back door and strolls across the dreary courtyard towards the quinjet awaiting his arrival.

This better be an interesting mission.

 

/

 

"солд _ат."_

"Ready to comply." The worlds slip off his tongue and out of his lips thoughtlessly. His dark eyes are focused on the large and pristine building. As they flew over it earlier, he saw a large 'A' painted on the roof. He wasn't sure what it means but he didn't care. He was here to do his mission and go home, not think about childish things like what letters meant.

"The target is in the building. Get in, finish the job. We will not talk again after this... unfortunately, their security may pick up your earpiece so remove it and leave it on the ground." Peter did so, the only noise in his ears now is the icy wind that bites at his face and dead leaves fluttering by. He slowly begins creeping towards the fence, before taking a running start and jumping over it. No alarms. Peter isn't sure whether or not that is a good thing.

He sticks close to the clean, white walls - shuffling along them with his gloved fingertips brushing the surface.

_Tony Stark._

The target.

Why does Peter think he's heard that name before? A distant memory. He shakes the thought out of his head, creeping through the silent, dark courtyard hearing gravel crunch slightly under his light footsteps.

_Friday._

The security system.

His handler told him to go to the large statue in the courtyard and place a small EMP to completely disable the security without alerting the residents. He does so quickly, pressing the trigger and after hearing no commotions, stalks over to a slightly open window. Idiots.

He's only just small enough to slip through the window. It's a bathroom and a dirty one at that. The sink has stray hair on the rim - likely from the occupant shaving - and smells strongly of lime bathroom cleaner. Peters' nose stings at the stench, but nevertheless, he continues creeping around. He, after all, only has fifteen minutes at the most before the security comes back online and if that happens it's game over for him.

It isn't long before Peter finds where he needs to be. It's still nighttime, so luckily all inhabitants of the building are asleep - Peter hopes so, at least.

He pushes open the door to the laboratory, where he can see the back of a man's head.  _Stark._ Peter slips inside, thanking God that the man has a pair of expensive-looking headphones in that seem to be blocking out the sound of the small click of the door shutting behind him. Peter grabs the knife strapped to his thigh and begins to slowly sneak up on the man when a loud whooshing noise starts heading his way.

A red and gold metal gauntlet - glove? - flies out of nowhere as Stark turns around, a smirk on his face. The glove wraps around his hand and Peter stumbles - a thing his handler scolds him for constantly - at the weight of it, dropping his knife and prying at the device with his fingers. It doesn't budge. Peter feels an angry growl in his throat as he whips around to look at Stark who just smiles back at him, with that damn smug face.

"Smart. Using an EMP. Shame Friday is a _bit_ more advanced than that. She could hear your earpiece before you came in." Stark grins at him, and Peter clenches his free hand into a tight fist.

He steps towards the older man but is interrupted by another obnoxiously covered metal contraption flying at him. He almost manages to jump out of the way, but it catches his right leg and anchors him to the floor. He snatches the knife off the floor and aims it at Stark, nearly hitting him but unfortunately, the man manages to duck out of the way in time.

"охуе́ть." Peter hisses, desperately trying to wrench his leg free of the tight metal grip of the... what exactly is this thing?

"Mhm. Yeah, I don't know what you said but you don't sound very happy." Stark folds his arms together, watching Peter struggle. "Who sent you?"

"Hail Hydra." Peter snarls. Stark's grin turns into a scowl.

"Those fuckers, again?" He scoffs. "They recruit kids now, then?"

"Отъеби́сь." Peter snaps back at him, and suddenly a blinding pain shoots through his leg. He lets out a gasp of pain, nearly doubling over.

"Everyone, I need backup in my lab immediately. It's Hydra again." Stark's speaking into his wrist, eyes trained on Peter. Peter glares back at him.

 

 

And then he blacks out.

 


End file.
